Julie in July

It’s exactly eleven thirty when I fall asleep. I recognize the blackness of my mind easily, the familiar sounds of war greeting me like they always do on nights like this. I ignore them and go in search for an entrance, careful not to lose my focus. It appears before me readily, a great slab of oak with iron handles. An invitation. It’s the only thing I ask for in my dreams, since my subconscious tends to fall on the stubborn side. It’s unfortunate, how easily I can slip into the thralls of unconsciousness. How quickly I forget almost everything except for her.

I take a breath and open the door.

On the other side, a red bridge lined with lanterns of every size and color arches gracefully over a midnight lake. A glowing smudge unblurs itself at its end into a collection of red buildings and tents, strung through with glittering lights and flags. An island. Festival music pours over the waters, and smoke sharpens the air. I can see people in intricate attire milling between stands, buying themselves small delights: dough and meat on skewers, masks made of mirrors and jewels, and lanterns borne atop beautifully carved poles that bob above the crowd like ghosts.

I step off the bridge onto a busy, vibrant path, the ground soft beneath my feet. I am out of place here, and I feel eyes following me as I head left towards a grand archway. A gentleman in a shadow suit and mirrored mask turns his head to watch as I walk briskly past. But I am not here for him.

I go through a clearing to the next bridge, stopping to watch the koi, big as sharks, meander their way through the canal. Their scales cast ripples of molten light into the air.

“Terrence.”

I turn, and there she is.

If there exists one perfect thing that my subconscious conjured out of the dark ether of my mind, it is her. Julie is wearing an orange sundress. Her hair, clouding around her face in inky coils, is stuck through with marigolds. Her lips are the color of dawn, full and soft as pillows. Her skin is brown as summer dusk, like the first touch of night over the land. She’s smiling at me. I run to her, and take the softness of her cheeks in my hands.

“I’ve been looking for you,” I tell her between kisses. She tastes like citrus and spice; she is made of earth and sunlight and all the abundance of the universe. I pull back and look into the dark pools of her eyes.

“I missed you,” I say.

“You’re here,” she breathes, the words like downy feathers over my skin. I take her hand and twirl her once, watching the light from the koi play over her. She laughs, and the sound is intoxicating enough that I could forget my name.

“Come, I’ll take you through the festival.” She says, pulling me down the bridge. I think of how perfectly our hands fit together, how every crevice of her skin falls exactly in line with mine. I would carve my own flesh if only to let it fit so faultlessly against hers.

Julie takes me past the tents and into the red town, full of ornamented buildings and painted figures on stilts. She stops decisively in front of a stand selling candied fireworks, handing a strange spirit – a demon perhaps, with yellow horns and wine-tinted skin – a jangle of silver. In return, she is given a canvas bag full of round colored candies. She tosses one into the air in front of her face and it bursts into a glitter of blue and gold. She catches the sparks on her tongue, eyes widening in wonder as she contemplates the flavor. I love this about her. Every experience is given Julie's full attention, as if she cannot bear for a single detail to be lost on her. Julie doesn’t exist, but she is better at living than anyone I’ve ever met.

“Try one,” she says, handing me the bag. I do. It tastes like saffron and honey. She grins, already pulling me towards the next stall.

“Wait!” I laugh, stumbling, “Wait, aren’t you going to tell me what all this is about?” I gesture at the lanterns, the crimson buildings, the extravagant crowd as we walk.

“How should I know? It is your dream, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

Julie smiles slowly. “Is there anything to celebrate in your waking life? If not, perhaps it is whatever you want it to be.”

I press my lips together and take survey of my surroundings. I take in everything, for if I do not, I fear the dreamworld may collapse, and me with it. And Julie will be gone.

“I have nothing to celebrate in my waking life.” I say to her. “Which leads me to a single conclusion: this must all be for you.”

Julie laughs again, the sound goes through my heart like an arrow. “I’m not convinced. I am only one girl, and this is the grandest festival I’ve ever seen.”

I stop, gazing down with a seriousness I only reserve for her. “Julie, there is not a thing I could conjure that would be worthy enough for you.” I smirk slightly, remembering the particular dream where I had gifted her the moon. Even then, I had thought that wasn’t nearly enough. “If you ask me, this festival is lacking.”

She stares at me, doe-eyed, lips slightly parted. Then, the smile returns, and she takes my hand again. It is seldom that she lets it go.

“Come on.”

We arrive at a courtyard that is canopied by a vast orange tree. Fireflies of every color flit among its leaves, like jewels above our heads. Music fills the air, lilting back and forth. A waltz. Cheers erupt from the crowd as dancers, antlered men with long black hair and elegant robes, twirl their partners overhead. Julie squeezes excitedly between a cheery man and a fox-masked girl to get a better view.

“Do you see them?” she asks me, pointing to the new arrivals. Women with scaled arms and fins for ears glide to the center of the dance, ribbons trailing around them like water. They circle the orange tree, winding their silks around it until its trunk is wrapped as beautifully as a present. The procession falls to the floor in a tumble of finery as the music ends. Julie claps and cheers louder than anyone. Another thing I adore – her ready amazement, finding intricacies even in things others might dismiss as plain. As the second waltz begins, I lift her chin in my hand.

“Dance with me?” I ask. She blushes, nodding. Her sundress swirls around her in a flurry as I twist her round and round. It is impossible for us to realize we are the only ones who have taken to the dance floor. Her face, bright and flushed with joy, is the only thing I ever want to look at.

Afterward, we walk through the marketplace, and climb to an archway suspended between two upper-level clothing stores, each stuffed full with every shade and shimmer of fabric. From our view, we watch the patrons and try and guess which stores they will go into. Julie is better at it than me, and I lose most of the time. But I don’t mind. She is so beautiful. I can hardly justify pulling my attention from her; with those careful, lively eyes assessing crowd. Her slender fingers point out the women, with their faces painted with whorls of amber and gold, as they arrive exactly at the destination she had predicted moments before.

“I’m so good, I’m beginning to think this is my dream rather than yours.” She muses.

“What dream?”

The light in Julie’s obsidian eyes flickers, and fades. Without another word, she pushes herself from the railing and leaves. Dumbfounded, I follow after her.

We’re in the middle of the clothing store when I catch her arm. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Are you aware this isn’t real?” she asks sternly. I blink, and shake my head slightly, clearing the cobwebs.

“Of course I am.” I smile, and brush my hand over her coils, tucking a marigold back into its place on her head. Julie looks at me sadly.

“It’s happening again.” She says, choking on the words a bit. “I won’t stay. I won’t watch you forget me.”

She turns from me, and I watch her flee from the store, flabbergasted. “Julie. Julie, wait!” I say, starting after her.

When I find her again, Julie is leaning over the railing of a terrace, gazing out over the endless midnight of the lake. I nearly topple over a small man with a paper mask to get to her.

“Leave me, Terrence.” She says as I approach. “You’ll be waking up soon anyways.”

I think that if words could cut like knives, hers would be more akin to grenades. Bombs.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. She does not look at me. It’s like torture, to keep myself from reaching out to touch her.

“You think I am a dream.” She faces me, and I am distraught to see the crystalline tears in her eyes.

“No, Julie. You are my dream. My perfect dream.” I tell her, swiping away the moisture from her face.

“But I’m not. I’m real Terrence. But you forget. You forget you’re dreaming and you walk away, or disappear, and I cannot make you remember that I am real.”

As she says this, I feel the flutter of her breathing against my chest, and she nearly convinces me.

“Believe me when I say there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do to make you so. But it’s impossible.” I say. My heart is so broken for her, I’m surprised it isn’t leaking blood all over her dress.

Julie is stricken, and looks down. “No.” she sniffs, fiddling with a button on my shirt. “No, I am real. I’m a dreamwalker, Terrence. But the place I am, I cannot leave. They use me for intelligence.” She smiles sadly, a sadness I know cannot be kissed away. “Except for the summer. They give me a month of freedom in July, and that’s when I come and see you. Haven’t you ever wondered why I only come to you then?”

I break away from her, shaking my head. “No. That can’t be.” I say, tears blurring my vision.

She steps closer to me. “It’s true. That’s how we first met, when I entered into your dreams for the war. That’s where we first fell in love, where I first told you that you were dreaming. And I’ve come back for you ever since.”

“You cannot be real.” I choke. “You cannot be real. How can I protect you, Julie, if you aren’t here?”

Julie throws her arms around my neck, and I sob into the soft cloud of her hair. I think of how close we are to death when we are sleeping. I think of the war, of everything I ever lost, and how thoroughly I would come undone if Julie were somehow added to that list.

“You have to find me Terrance. I cannot be the only one who is looking, because I cannot leave the place I am. You must remember.”

I nod. I want to find her. I will find her. I pull back so that our foreheads are touching, and kiss her deeply.

“Tell me where you are.”

She opens her mouth, and suddenly, the sound of a bell fills the air, so loud, I can feel the shadow of my sleeping form, motionless and heavy in my bed.

Darkness closes in, and the dream is lost.

I wake with the feeling Julie always leaves me with.

Joy.

Pure, heart fluttering joy.

The fading sense that I’ve forgotten something is gone by midmorning.